Wandwork and Stirring the Cauldron
by GryffindorCriss
Summary: Newt Scamander relieves himself thinking of a certain Miss Goldstein. Across the Atlantic, Tina Goldstein relieves herself thinking of a certain Mr Scamander.
1. Wandwork

**I don't know why I wrote this. It's plotless porn – plotless wanking.**

 **Basically: Newt is lonely and has a wank (he jerks-off in other words) – a certain Miss Goldstein crops up in his thoughts. Post-FBAWTFT on the boat.**

* * *

He was _hard_.

It wasn't his fault, he would argue: he had gone to sleep in the bunk in his shed, quite normal and _un_ aroused, after feeding his creatures for the night. He could hardly be held accountable for what his mind thought about while he was _asleep_ , of course, let alone for _this_.

Newt gave a frustrated sigh, throwing his head back against the headboard – he didn't even wince at the dull pain that shot through his skull. It wasn't the first time he had woken up like _this_ , of course, for he had _needs_ just as much as any other red-blooded male – he was only human, after all. To think and dream of a beautiful woman in such a way was hardly unnatural or the worst thing in the world – quite the opposite in fact.

Usually, however, his dreams didn't consist of American witches with short dark hair and ghostly pale skin.

 _No, I will not think of her in that way_ , he told himself half-heartedly, _she is a friend. Nothing more_.

Sometimes he was able to go back to sleep if he woke up with an erection, letting it die on its own – other times, however, he took things into his own _hands_ (literally speaking) to gain some relief. It had been a long time since he'd relieved himself like this: it would probably be best to do so now, to let out some tension – his two weeks thus far on the boat had been _awfully_ tedious.

He kicked off the last of the blankets in the bunk before hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his pyjama trousers and pushing them down; _it_ was already straining, fully-hard, a drop of pearly liquid forming at the top. Wasting no time, he wrapped his right hand around his cock and started to stroke – slowly at first, to build up a decent rhythm. He was unable to stop the sigh of relief that slipped from his lips, closing his eyes so he could imagine someone else doing this to him instead.

But the moment Newt closed his eyes, all he could see was _her_ – _her_ standing on the docks, beaming radiantly at him as they said goodbye, _her_ eyes lighting up when he promised to return to give her his book in person.

Tina.

He groaned but couldn't bring himself to imagine anyone else – it was too late for that, and his mind was already forming indecent ideas about her, about what she could be doing to _him_.

The image of her when they were in the Blind Pig suddenly flashed across his mind, and his hips gave a shallow thrust involuntarily; the dress she had worn hadn't been particularly _sexy_ or revealing…but it hadn't covered a great deal either. Her pale skin, so much paler than he would have thought, had been on display – a creamy landscape that he longed to kiss and map with his mouth – and he'd seen the slightest hint of cleavage when she had leaned forwards to rest her arms on the table.

Newt couldn't help but wonder just what her breasts would be like, what they would _feel_ like, and his hand started to stroke his cock faster.

He imagined Tina in her dress – in her positively _indecent_ dress – in front of him, smiling up at him; he could picture himself hastily undressing her, lips clashing fiercely, hands wandering as he felt her body, the way she would clutch at him in desperation. He could _see_ her whimpering and pushing herself against him, _eager_ for some friction of some kind, and – _Merlin_ – she would be so _wet_ and ready for him…so _wet_ and open…

Before he could stop it, the thought of her _riding_ him, milking him as she thrust and ground herself against him, invaded his mind; she would cry out loudly, uninhibited, an absolutely _wild_ thing. Her voice, calling out _his_ name over and over again as she finally reached a climax, nails digging into his shoulders as she tightened and clamped around him-

His balls tightened as he thrust upwards into his fist, spilling onto the fabric of his pyjama shirt as his orgasm rushed over him; he was briefly aware that he was shouting out Tina's name, interspersed with a few expletives.

It was the hardest he'd came in his life.

As he recovered, panting harshly, a feeling of absolute guilt began to wash over Newt; Tina Goldstein was a friend – though he doubted whether he could even really call her that, seeing as they'd known each other for just a few short days. She didn't deserve to be objectified in one of his fantasies, didn't deserve to be the subject of his sordid mind – she deserved so much _better_.

Tina wasn't just incredibly beautiful to him – there was so much more to her than that. She was a highly-skilled Auror, talented at her job, driven and hard-working…and, though it wasn't easy to see at first, kind with her heart in the right place. She had risked exposing the wizarding community – risked her job and, perhaps, the life she had built – to protect the Second Salem boy (Newt felt his heart sink at the memory of Credence, being so cruelly attacked in the subway station by a team of Aurors); the moment she had explained to him how she had lost her job had struck a chord with him, making him realize that perhaps there was more to her than he had previously assumed.

Exhausted and starting to feel wracked with guilt, Newt reached for his wand from the side-table, cast a cleaning spell and shakily pulled his pyjama bottoms back up over his legs. He rolled over to lie on his side, feeling sated from his orgasm and ready to attempt some sleep – and then a new image came into his mind quite suddenly.

He imagined Tina nestled against his side, fully-naked and nuzzling her face into his shoulder, absolutely content as they drifted off to sleep together.

 _Maybe_ … _Maybe someday_ , he allowed, and he couldn't help but grin hopefully to himself as he fell into sleep.

 **This was trash. This was literal trash I wrote about Newt Scamander jerking off.**

 **As people have pointed out, he spent weeks alone on a boat – and he's only human. The poor guy needs some relief, and…well. So be it.**


	2. Stirring the Cauldron

**A follow-up to "Wandwork" – a fic which saw your favourite Magizoologist wanking over your favourite Auror.**

 **A lot of people wanted a follow-up featuring Tina doing the same thing so…fuck it, here it is.**

* * *

 _"Tina…" His voice was soft, mumbled into her skin. "So beautiful. Perfect."_

 _She writhed underneath him, bucking her hips up against his desperately. "Please, please…I need you to…"_

 _He grinned crookedly, hair falling onto his forehead as he moved away. "Alright. One moment." He reached down, positioning himself so that the head of his cock was pushed inside; she let out a groan, gripping the bedsheets underneath her._

 _And when he pushed all of the way in, it was pure **heaven**._

 _"Fuck…Mercy…" She reached to grip his shoulders, gazing up at him. "Move, please, just move…I'm going to go crazy otherwise…"_

 _He started to thrust shallowly, and his face **changed** : he closed his eyes and exhaled some air between his teeth as his face twisted in pleasure. "So tight…Merlin…yes…"_

 _It didn't take long for him to build a decent rhythm, hands reaching to grip her hips tightly so that he could hold her in place; she writhed beneath him, hair absolutely wild and body thrumming with exhilarated ecstasy._

 _"You're so **wet** ," He murmured, almost helplessly. "I can feel it…I can feel you squeezing around me…bugger…"_

 _Even in the dull light, she could see every one of his freckles – she loved every single one of them, wanted to count them, kiss them…she doubted she'd ever love a man now if he didn't have freckles. And the way his eyes burned as he watched her underneath him…it made something hot and primal claw its way into her belly._

 _"So close…" She whimpered, squeezing his shoulders._

 _He moaned loudly, music to her ears, thrusting even harder and faster. "Yes…so nearly…you're so perfect," He muttered again, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her throat. "You're absolutely perfect, Tina, and you're **mine**."_

 _"Yes," She agreed readily, bucking against him. "Yours, all yours."_

 _She was so close to climaxing when he let out a cry and stilled; she could feel him pulsing and releasing inside of her, swelling as he came hard. She had made him cum, she had brought him this pleasure – no one else, just her – and she cried out as a wave of pleasure washed over her._

 _"YES! NEWT!"_

And that was when Tina woke up, heart thumping wildly and with an ache between her legs.

This wasn't the first dream she had had regarding Newt – but it was the first of _that_ nature. She barely _knew_ Newt, she would argue, so to think of him in such a way would be grossly-inappropriate…but all the same, she couldn't _help_ it. No other man had ever made her feel quite like this, not even the meagre few boyfriends she had dated in the past, and try as she might to deny it she _couldn't_.

A part of her had started to fall in love with Newt Scamander, against her better judgement.

Thankfully her sister still appeared to be asleep and so unable to read her thoughts – she dreaded what Queenie might think if she saw _those_ images. It was still night-time, and it would probably be best if she tried to sleep some more before work in the morning.

Then again, it had been such a long time since she'd relieved herself like this – she couldn't do it often of course, living in such close proximity with her younger Legilimens sister, but Queenie was fast asleep, and she was already _so_ wet…

Just once wouldn't hurt.

Slowly, Tina unbuttoned the first few buttons of her pyjama shirt and pushed down the matching bottoms so that they were around her knees; one hand trailed to cup a breast, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from making any noise. It wouldn't take long at all to reach a climax, seeing as she'd been _so close_ before waking up. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine someone else touching her, someone else fondling her breasts.

She nearly fell out of bed when the first thing she thought of were calloused, freckled hands.

 _No,_ she thought to herself sternly, _I will not think of Newt Scamander. That would be inappropriate on a number of levels_.

But the image was already there, imprinted in her mind; his touch had been soft that day when they said goodbye at the docks, tentative almost, and she couldn't help but wonder if it would be the same touching her breasts – or perhaps he would be more forceful, more _confident_ , touching her. He would probably consider sex a natural and normal thing, becoming less awkward because it was about instinct.

 _Well…I'm already thinking about him – there wouldn't be much point in stopping now, I guess_.

Tina imagined Newt looking at her with _burning_ eyes, absolutely hungry; he would press kisses against every part of her he reached, touching and licking and even _biting_ his way down her body. Perhaps he would pay special attention to her breasts, sucking and pressing his face against them – his fingers would expertly pinch and squeeze her nipples, knowing just what she needed.

She involuntarily bucked her hips – she wasn't going to last long at all.

Her hand trembled slightly as she reached down between her legs, pressing her fingers against her mound and groaning quietly when she felt how wet she was – _Newt_ would groan, feeling how wet she was, and she imagined that her fingers were _his_ as she started to rub her clit desperately.

The image of Newt hovering above her invaded her mind once more, almost as if he were really _there_ ; she could almost _feel_ him thrusting hard, gripping her hips to maintain a pleasurable angle for them both, could almost _see_ his face as he suddenly came inside of her without warning. She could hear his voice in her ear, as if he were next to her.

 _"Fuck, Tina…so perfect…You're mine…all mine_ …"

In the dream he had cum for _her_ , only for _her_ , growling _her_ name: he wasn't like the other men who thought she was plain or dull…no, he had been pushed to the edge _inside_ of _her_ , and only _her_ -

Her back arched, hips rising from the bed as her orgasm crashed over her like a peal of thunder; despite herself, Tina couldn't help but whimper and cry out _his_ name into the empty air. _Never_ had she climaxed as strongly as she did now, lying in bed whilst thinking of Newt Scamander.

Tina didn't know how long she lay there, panting harshly as she recovered; when she finally managed to come to somewhat, she shakily removed her hand from her clit and pulled her pyjama bottoms back up. She couldn't even _believe_ she had just done that, fantasizing about a man she'd known for just a week – she dreaded to know what Newt would _say_ if he ever found out she'd pleasured herself whilst thinking about him.

 _He probably wouldn't take it very well_ , she thought anxiously.

It was only a silly fantasy: it would never happen. After all, they were on different continents for a start – and if he _did_ return to give her a copy of his book, as promised, he would have almost definitely moved on. Perhaps he would have even rekindled his relationship with Leta Lestrange.

The thought made her eyes sting with tears, though she desperately rubbed them away with her sleeve; there was no point getting upset really – it wouldn't be the first time a man had passed her off for a prettier woman, and she was sadly used to it.

But none of _them_ had been Newt Scamander – none of them had made her feel the way he had made her feel during his stay. To him, she hadn't been boring or bland at all: he had even seemed to _enjoy_ her company, appreciating her help finding his creatures, and his goodbye at the docks had seemed whole-heartedly genuine.

There was a strong chance it would never happen – that he would never see her in that way – but all the same she couldn't help but think that it was _nice_ to pretend otherwise.

Tina rolled onto her side, feeling exhausted now from her activities; despite her certainty that it would never happen, she found herself imagining what it would be like to curl up in his arms.

 _If only_.

* * *

 **Wahhh, this ended up being angsty as fuck.**

 **Sorry if this chapter sucked, I honestly have never written masturbation before so…eep.**


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